


Old Habits

by thelilnan



Category: The World's End (2013)
Genre: Angst, M/M, No Lube, Sad Blowjobs, i apologise for that, olive oil for lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilnan/pseuds/thelilnan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gary hecked up big time so he's gonna apologise to Andy in the one sure fire way he knows how.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-<br/>warning for Gary's idiocy and trying to ride Andy dry.</p>
<p>also i wrote this in like half an hour</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Habits

“I’m sorry!”

And how many times had Andy wished he’d heard that? That admission, tumbling from Gary’s lipstick-stained mouth, tongue thick with alcohol and head a buzzing mess, but Gary meant it all the same. It figured that he’d finally hear it at the End of All Things, with a town full of Blanks pursuing them and the rest of their friends assimilated or worse. Andy screamed at Gary again, almost lunging for him—it wasn’t enough now, not when Andy had lost so much for Gary’s sake—when Gary grabbed him and refused to let go.

Gary King was crying.

“I’m so sorry!” he sputtered, shaking his head and trembling on his knees before him, “For everything! I–I’m sorry, Andy! Please!”

Well it wasn’t like he was going to _actually_ kill him, really... Maybe rough him up and work out some residual energy from fighting off Blanks all night, but he’d never actually...

“I’m sorry...” his head was dropping and his hands were drifting away and downward; Oh no, no, this was not the time to pass out!

“Gary!”

“I’m so sorry, Andy, I’ll do anything...” he hiccuped miserably and rubbed his cheek down... Oh. _Shit_.

“Gary, knock it off, we don’t have time—!”’

“Please...”

Andy really wished he’d had that Whiskey Dick problem that they were always ragging on Oliver for. Thing was, he was riled up, keyed up, and angry as hell at Gary; not a good combination in his past, especially not concerning Gary. But the intrepid, blubbering man before him was already mouthing at him through his trousers and _shit_ , oh God, the memories came flooding back. Granted, it was only a handful of times and the memories were hazy as hell, but Andy remembered Gary’s old way of apologizing to him when he’d well and truly fucked him over.

Well, if they were gonna die...

Andy stumbled backward into the stool and Gary shuffled forward, barely breaking contact with Andy’s groin, even while fumbling open his flies. Andy was already a bit hard. He blushed angrily and shut his eyes, trying at least to think of his wife instead of his burn-out, former-best friend, as if that would make it better. As soon as Gary took him into his mouth, Andy’s thoughts turned solely onto him. Jesus, the mouth on this guy! Andy clenched a fist on the table and tried not to enjoy it.

That was easier said than done. Gary was sucking him like he was getting paid for it, bobbing and licking at him and Andy didn’t know if time would really be an issue anymore. The way Gary was working him over, he’d be done shortly and they could resume trying to escape the shit hole town he swore he’d never die in. It might’ve been a fruitless promise if Gary kept taking him _so far_ deep into his throat and, Jesus, was he still crying?

“H-Hey, Gary...” Andy bit back a groan as he said it, resulting in a gruff moan. Gary looked up, not pausing for a second in his deep throating, though tears were streaming down his cheeks. Another groan welled up in Andy’s throat, “Y-you don’t have to...”

“Mmn...” Gary whimpered in reply, closed his eyes, and continued his eager bobbing. His breath hitched as he snuffled around Andy until he couldn’t stand the guilt any longer. Gently, he pulled him away, trying to spare him any more pain in their hellish night, but the somewhat tender moment was ruined by Andy’s erection bobbing up eagerly between them. Gary sniffled and wiped his eyes with one wrist.

“You don’t have to do this...”

“S’what I used to do,” his voice sounded raw and broken, “Whenever you were mad at me, I...”

“Yeah,” Andy sighed, “ _Used_ to. Gary, how can you still be living like this?”

“Those were the happiest days of my life,” his crying renewed, voice wavering. Yet still, he wiped the tears away with one ink-stained hand. The other was conspicuously pinned between his legs, moving rhythmically. Andy rolled his eyes.

“You’re not seriously wanking right now, are you?”

“Fingerin’...”

Andy stared at him for a long moment as realization set in, “No! Gary—!”

In a flash, Gary shuffled his jeans off to one ankle and straddled Andy’s lap, which was fairly discombobulating and more than a little awkward, given that Andy was sitting on a fairly small stool. He gripped onto Gary reflexively to prevent either one of them from falling which gave Gary just enough time to arrange himself and push onto his cock.

Andy tensed, gasping airlessly, and staring at him as Gary sank down. There was no way it could’ve been anything but painful for him. Andy gawked as Gary settled, shuddered through another sob, and bowed his head.

“You fucking idiot! You’re not supposed—Nnh. A-are you alright?!”

“Of course I’m not alright!” Gary sobbed, “Jesus _Christ_ , you’re huge!”

Andy tried not to take it as a compliment at the moment, as there were more pressing issues, “Get off! Gary!”

“No!” Impossibly, he started to rock his hips and ride Andy’s cock. He was still crying, still obviously in pain, and barely even half-hard. It was entirely for Andy and was, in a weird, fucked up way, the most selfless thing Gary had ever done. For anyone. Andy gawked a moment more, hands still clenched on Gary’s stiffly undulating hips.

This went on for almost a minute before Andy couldn’t stand Gary’s obviously pained cries and stilled him on his lap. Gary sniffed pathetically, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve.

“‘M sorry...”

“No, no, hey... C’mon it’s fine...” Andy swallowed and tipped his head forward to rest again Gary’s, “I’m just afraid you might’ve hurt yourself...”

“Hurts...” Gary agreed with an embarrassed shrug, “S’good though?”

“Yeah... It’s good. But I don’t want to keep hurting you. C’mon, sit off—”

“Please let me fuck you,” Gary heaved with another on-coming sob, open and raw and pained to that little withered soul he was rumored to have. Andy sighed and kissed the corner of his mouth to calm him down, which he did, and was coaxed unwillingly from Andy’s lap. He winced once he stood, awkwardly undressed from the waist down, half-hard and obviously feeling the burn.

“Now,” Andy sighed, rubbing his face, “You really want to do this.”

Gary nodded glumly. Andy listened for any distant sounds of unified marching, indicating the Blanks’ approach, but found they were still alone. He set his jaw and nodded once, sharply.

“Some olive oil in the fridge, probably. We’ll use that.”

“Why’d a pub have olive oil...?”

“For the salads, Gary.”

“Since when—”

“SINCE ALWAYS! Just get the olive oil and you can fuck me, alright?!”

Gary, for once in his life, did exactly what he was told.

Once they’d properly (or as properly as they could, given the circumstances) lubed Gary up, he was a surprisingly good ride. Of course, Andy knew, in a dimly-remembered, drunken memory kind of way, that Gary gave good head but he’d always assumed any stories he told about his other exploits were either exaggerations or entirely fictional. He still didn’t know if he believed the whole Twin thing but at the moment, Andy didn’t remember his name. All he knew was Gary riding him eagerly and expertly, which concerned Andy in a distant way, but could not be bothered to be brought up. Instead, he concerned himself with controlling Gary’s wild hips and setting him to a more rhythmic, bouncing pace, and before he knew it, he felt climax quickly approach.

“Oh shit,” he gasped sharply from beneath Gary, “Gary, I’m... Ah...”

“S’alright,” Gary panted back, “Me too. C’mon, just do it...!”

“Seriously??”

“Yes! Andy!”

And for whatever reason, that frustrated cry of his name set him off.  Gary was not far behind, though he did manage to ruin both of their shirts with his mess. Andy grunted with annoyance but otherwise laid back and let Gary decide when to move again.

Eventually, he did clamber off Andy’s lap and pull his trousers back on, though with a distinct wince. It could’ve been attributed to the pain from the first attempt or the sheer amount of semen and olive oil surely dripping out of him by now. Andy privately hoped it was the latter so he could laugh at it, rather than feel guilty.

It was then he noticed Gary stumbling back to the drinks counter.

“What’re you doing?”

Gary looked up, eyes red from the crying, face a mess with Blue Stuff and lipstick, and smiled sadly.

“Last pint, mate.”


End file.
